Stars
by Clepsydra-Delphinus
Summary: It is not the burning fires of anger but a smouldering ember that calls him to her. Harry answers this call.


Name: Clepsydra  
  
Email: watersnake @ email. com  
  
Rating: G  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Author's note: Written for the Pumpkin Pie Valentines day challenge but posted late because I was lazy about getting it beta'd. Speaking of Betas, many thanks, love and schnomps to the fantastic Sofie, she is a good beta and more importantly a fabulous friend.  
  
Stars  
  
Harry wanted to get her something for Valentines Day, something special. He'd given up. When someone meant as much to you as Hermione did to him, there was nothing you could get that could match up to that idea of her. The white roses are not pure enough, diamonds not beautiful enough. Hermione never gets Valentines Day cards. She doesn't flirt and flaunt her femininity so no one notices her. Harry does. Harry sees her every day and adores her from afar. Though he's sitting right next to her and she is talking directly to him, he feels far away.  
  
Hermione brushes her hair and looks in the mirror before going down for the evening. It is Valentines Day and the normal meal in the hall will seem a feast to all the happy couples who in reality, eat out of each other's eyes. Harry loves her, it has been written plainly on his face for a while now. He will give her something, and she will throw her arms around him and kiss him, yes, that's how it will happen. Hermione descends the stairs and emerges into the common room. Harry and Ron are waiting for her. Harry is looking petrified; he has his hands behind his back and keeps swallowing. Ron's face is glowing with fun. He hands her a single red rose. Hermione smiles nervously and kisses his cheek. This was not what she wanted. Her chest feels tight in the expectation of a declaration of a love that has long gone unspoken.  
  
"Happy Valentine's day Harry." She says shyly, trying her best to sound gracious and unassuming. Harry shuffles his feet.  
  
"Happy Valentines Day to you." He says, quickly and quietly. He takes his hands from behind his back and wrings his fingers. He has no gift. Hermione's heart wells with pain. The pain fills every inch of her being and the heartbreak pushes at her eyes. She doesn't want to cry, but if she doesn't cry she can't speak. She gives a tiny smile; the effort of this hurts her face. Blurting out quickly that she needs to go to the toilet, Hermione runs up the stairs and flings herself on her bed where sobs overwhelm her.  
  
She never gave me a chance, thinks Harry angrily. He wanted to explain that there was no gift that he could give; nothing. He would love her every day of her life and worship her memory everyday he lived without her, but he could not buy her a one galleon box of chocolates that said "I love you" on them because it would demean his feelings. Harry feels wretched. His heart feels empty, as if the only thing in it is a monster scratching away, making the pain of missed opportunities feel constant and raw.  
  
The pain has subsided for Hermione, she feels empty and dejected. The best place to be alone is by the lake. It is Valentines day and all the couples are in the gardens, the empty classrooms and their deserted dormitories, consummating their newly declared love or merely taking advantage of the blind eye turned by the faculty for this one day. No one wants to sit on the cold, damp grass by the lake and watch owls fly over the forest and listen to the howls that the forest gives on a still night.  
  
Hermione sits on the edge of the lake; her eyes seem a starry blue rather than a chocolate brown. Her hair blows with the wind from the forest, it also sparkles, sparkles with the magic of love at Hogwarts. Harry watches; he stands and longs to run his fingers through the magical hair and to kiss her matte pink lips till they shine. He won't. He doesn't think she feels that way about him. So he stands there, his own hair waving and whipping in the wind. There is no magic in his hair, his eyes are bright and shining though they don't reflect the ageless stars as Hermione's do.  
  
Hermione knows Harry is on the grass behind her. She wishes he'll come over, talk to her, kiss her in the moonlight and make the cares of the world sail away like the enchanted boats on the lake.  
  
Still Harry stands, he doesn't want to ruin the moment. The lake is beautiful at night, especially this one where the silver linings of the clouds are on show in the cold blue light of the moon. Somehow, the most beautiful sight that nature can offer him pales in comparison to Hermione's white, moonlit face with eyes that stare with stars.  
  
Hermione moves. She wants to see Harry but not break the spell by looking at him. She sees him there, hair like a flock of ravens and eyes glowing with the moon from the lake. A natural scientist, Hermione has never truly believed in magic till this moment.  
  
He stands still, not wanting to catch her eye with movement, merely wanting to watch her. If he comes too close he will be reminded of who she is, Hermione: smart, understanding, passionate and a character so strong that it is easy to forget she is a girl. Harry does not want to deal with the full force of that character now. He just wants to stand and bathe in the magical aura the night has given her. She turns and meets him in the eye. Her eyes still contain stars, but also fire. It is not the burning fires of anger but a smouldering ember that calls him to her. Harry answers this call.  
  
Hermione sits by the lake in the moonlight, Harry is coming towards her and her heart is beating like a caged bird in her chest. This is Harry. Her friend, a wizard the world can reckon with, a warrior and a beacon for the world. She cannot connect the two ideas. This is Harry now, irresistible and barely human in her eyes. He has stopped being a boy, a person; he is now a spirit. The spirit is perfect and this is what she will love for the rest of her life. Her heart knows it will feel complete the minute he touches her.  
  
Harry walks towards Hermione as she shines like a diamond angel by the lake. He begins to fear she is a mirage, but nothing in the world can stop him going to her now. He walks across the grass. His steps lighter than air yet Harry moves slowly. Relishing moment of this perfection. He holds out a hand to her. Hermione's star like eyes look up to his and as her hand meets his, a silver spike slides up his throat, a painful yet beautiful rush of adrenaline that almost makes him cry. He takes her other hand, desperate for that rush to continue. Her pulls Hermione in close and smells the fruity musk of shampoo blended with Hermione's own aroma. He is bathed in her magic now and he that he is free.  
  
Pulled in close to Harry's chest she can feel his heart beat. It matches hers, fast and fluttering. His hands tremble as he holds hers, they are cold. Her breath feels hot in her mouth.  
  
Hermione wishes she were a few inches taller so she could go up and bridge the gap between the them, unfortunately she must stand in a tortuous anticipation of his kiss. He moves down and her consciousness rushes up through her head. It brushes past all her senses and made them a blur, all she knew was she was complete and that this was the closest she would ever come to heaven.  
  
As the Valentines Day fireworks explode in the sky, a couple, bathed in magic and mist of their breath in the cold air, stand by the lake and warm each other with their kisses. 


End file.
